


A Wee Crisis

by pearlydewdrop



Series: Cute, Dorky and a Wee Bit Mental (Collection of Random Derry Girls Stories!) [12]
Category: Derry Girls (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Erin's a total drama queen but we (and James!) love her anyway!, Existential Crisis, F/M, Future Fic, Growing Up Together, James being a sweetheart!, Lovable Eejits!, Pillow Talk, Soft Disaster Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:15:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29983410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearlydewdrop/pseuds/pearlydewdrop
Summary: James bit his lip in amusement, casting a glance over to the digital alarm clock on the bedside locker nearest to him.'03:00'Of the two of them, Erin was definitely the most likely to have a full blown cack attack in the wee hours of the morning. Over a single grey hair. From his head.
Relationships: James Maguire/Erin Quinn
Series: Cute, Dorky and a Wee Bit Mental (Collection of Random Derry Girls Stories!) [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2044645
Comments: 12
Kudos: 26





	A Wee Crisis

**A Wee Crisis.**

_2020_

"James!"

He was almost sound asleep when a sudden yelp from Erin unexpectedly woke him up.

Springing upwards, James took in his surroundings. The fleeting burst of adrenaline that coursed through him quickly eased when he was confronted by the familiar sight of their bedroom.

The light from Erin's laptop cast a faint blueish glow across her face and he just about registered her half-startled/half-confused expression and the feeling of her fingers parting his curls.

"Is something the matter, Er— _Ouch_!"

Rubbing his head from where she'd pulled a strand of hair clean out, James eyed his wife quizzically. "What on earth are you doing?"

Erin completely ignored his question, instead levelling him with a question of her own.

"What the _actual feck_ is this?"

Her eyes were wide as she presented him with something. He squinted in response, observing nothing but air in her empty palm.

"I'm afraid I can't see anything there, darling...", James returned, just a twinge sarcastic.

Erin rolled her eyes in distaste at the nickname, the one that only ever rolled off her husband's tongue mid-tiff or amidst one of her particularly extravagant and colourful tangents.

"Look closer, will ya?", she urged with a theatrical huff. "Jesus..."

Obliging, James wordlessly followed Erin's gaze. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust and for him to fully make out the faint curling outline of what she'd found.

"Is that a hair?", he asked, nose scrunched up in scrutiny.

Erin nodded adamantly, still visibly shook. "A grey hair."

James bit his lip in amusement, casting a glance over to the digital alarm clock on the bedside locker nearest to him.

_03:00_

Of the two of them, Erin was definitely the most likely to have a full blown cack attack in the wee hours of the morning. Over a _single_ grey hair. From _his_ head.

"I think that's fairly normal, Erin...", he teased gently, settling back down against his pillow—one arm behind his head. If anything, he was relieved that nothing too serious had been bothering her. 

"Normal?", she deadpanned, one nostril twisting upwards as she continued to stare blankly at him.

"Most people go grey in their early forties. Think of your parents, think of your Aunt Sarah, think of—"

Putting the pieces together, Erin's mouth dropped, as James's fairly nonchalant list continued to include Deirdre and Martin Mallon, his own Ma with her fabulous eyebrows and Michelle's two older brothers. _Hair dye was, after all, a marvellous thing!_

Her hands roamed into her own hair, as though compelled to have a good hoak through that as well. She thought of the rest of the gang. Had they considered the possibility of something like this happening?! _Surely not..._

Frustrated, Erin threw back the duvet covers.

"Yeh couldn't be...we're not! Are we—are we...gettin' old, James?"

James face softened as he watched Erin's change in expression, from confusion to devastation.

"Well, I don't think so", he assured gently, scooting a little closer to her and setting one comforting hand atop her flannel covered thigh.

"Although, Bronagh and Nessa will probably tell you otherwise if you try asking them that question in a few years time. Part of a teenagers' job, I guess."

Eyes widening even further at James's completely innocent throwaway comment, Erin's mind wandered to their sleeping wee'uns down the hall. Not yet eight years old, the two wee girls still thought their Ma and Da were the best things since sliced pan _...sort of...sometimes..._

Erin remembered the ragtag relationship she'd had with her own mother when she was in secondary school. An endless cycle of shouting matches, groundings and well-meaning advice that she didn't want to listen to at the time.

_Was that what was facing her down the road? ...Oh Christ!_

"They're not teenagers! Not even _nearly_ teenagers!"

James chuckled softly. "They will be in a few years time."

Erin blinked, the weight of how long she'd actually known her husband truly hitting her. At sixteen years old, they'd admittedly been _(alongside the girls)_ a right pack of dicks.

Back then, she'd been a shambolic eejit with an ego to rival even that of the great Bono himself. Meanwhile, James had been _(by all accounts)_ more than a wee bit of drip with self-esteem issues to the nines.

But somewhere along the way ( _by pure pot luck and determination_ ), they'd actually turned out alright.

"Oh my God! We've—we've actually proper..."

James smiled, finishing Erin's sentence.

"...grown up together?"

She shook her head, almost out of disbelief. "I met ya twenty five years ago this September. Christ, that's like... _ages_ ago! Ages and ages and ages ago! Wee'uns have been born and become whole feckin' adults in the time I've known you! That's just...bang out of order!"

He smirked affectionately, not disagreeing with her there. "Any regrets?"

Erin goldfished at the question, thrown off mid-tangent. "No, of course not. But—"

"Then don't worry about it", James suggested, sitting up to properly wrap an arm around her shoulders. He watched her in the almost-darkness, the light emitting from the screen of her laptop having dimmed some time earlier.

As they sat there together, James's eyes shone in affectionate amusement. Erin was still frozen and visibly struggling to drop the argument. In fact, he had a feeling that she was probably doggedly scouting for another angle to tear after.

"You really haven't changed much at all, you know that?"

She quirked an eyebrow. "You tryna get at somethin' there, James?"

"Maybe..."

"Care to share?"

Laughing slightly, James rolled his eyes at Erin's half-jokingly scolding.

"Twenty five years together and you're still my favourite person, Erin...even when you're having a full blown existential crisis about a single grey hair at three in the morning. That part hasn't changed at all."

Her scowl twitched slightly at the edges.

"That was... a nice save actually", she commended. "Fair play."

James flashed her a smile of agreement, settling back down and pulling the covers back over both of them. "I thought so too."

Rolling her eyes in response, Erin set her laptop aside and began to settle down on the mattress herself.

"I see now why they put ya in sales. Yer fairly convincin'."

James chuckled as her head found the crook of his neck, their legs brushing and their feet tangling beneath the blankets.

"You did sign the purchase agreement quite some time ago."

Erin grinned, happy to play along with any sort of metaphor. She patted James gently on the chest, his arm nearest to her resting on the dip of her waist—fingers splayed across her lower back.

True, they were grown ups now _(whatever the feck that meant!)_ but there was always a time and place for a certain brand of pure _daft-ness._

"All mine."

"All yours", James agreed, peppering a kiss to her temple. "Grey locks and all."

Erin snorted into his chest, arms curling around him. "Y'know, Love? I reckon I could get behind the silver fox look. Colin Firth's still lookin' pretty cracker these days...maybe not as fit as my fella but—"

James's lips descended upon hers, stealing the rest of her sentence clean out of her mouth with a bark of laughter. "You're absolutely mental, you know that?"

"I'm still yer favourite person", Erin lorded with a smug smile, happily pulling his lips back down to meet her own as James eagerly began rolling them over. 

_...maybe not so old after all._


End file.
